Honor to Serve
by Koneko Shampoo
Summary: Moiraine and Lan reflect on their relationship. A series of missing scene fillers and one-shots, some slightly Lan/Moiraine, some not.


Author's Note: This one-shot is meant to be a kind of 'missing scene' filler, responding to the life-saving incident Moiraine references in Ch. 22 of The Great Hunt when she considers her relationship with Lan to that point. Of course, I have taken some creative liberties. Hopefully, none too appalling. Please leave feedback! I hope you enjoy!

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters in the Wheel of Time series, nor do I intend to seek profit from their use. They, and everything else in the series, are the property of Robert Jordan, may he rest in piece.

**Honor to Serve: At the Last**

_She was married to her battle, as he was married to his. But they had been companions in those battles for so long. He had ridden a horse to death, then run himself nearly to death, carrying her in his arms at the last, to Anaiya for Healing. She had tended his wounds more than once, keeping with her arts a life he had been ready to throw away to save hers. He had always said he was wedded with death._

_-Ch. 22, The Great Hunt_

An odd feeling, one of pleasantness tinged with regret, settled over Moiraine at the recollection of the incident. Even now, after so many years, the memory stirred something within her. Perhaps because it seemed a relic of a life long past, where her search, her existence, seemed no less urgent than now, but infinitely simpler. How long had it been? Ten years? Fifteen? She had been so young then—foolish and prideful. Her time at death's doorstep had done much to temper those flaws in her, and Lan's reception of her thereafter had an equally humbling effect.

Moiraine permitted herself a private smile. Even then their bond had been strong, and Lan had taken it upon himself to ensure that her arrogance and folly would never again place her life jeopardy. He had been successful, at least with her arrogance. She had not since let her pride in her prodigal abilities with _saidar _or her Cairhien noble's upbringing ensnare them. Foolishness was another matter altogether—these days, every move she made seemed more folly than the last. _The Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills_, she thought with resign, and began to gather the scrolls spread across the table before her.

"It has been long, Moiraine Sedai, since I felt this from you." Lan was standing in the doorway of the small cottage, color-shifting cloak over his shoulders and his mouth drawn into an expressionless line. The Aes Sedai chastised herself for her lapse in mental control. Though each had slowly built up walls against emotion since that day she bonded him in Chachin, twenty years had taught them the skill to read the other unguarded like an open book.

"It has been long, al'Lan Mandragoran, since we took up this task" She said serenely, avoiding the implicit question in his statement and returning to her work collecting the scrolls, After a time however, when he did not leave, she spoke. "Do you remember the day that Cat Dancer died?"

"Aye." He said after hesitating. The horse was beloved of him, more so even than Mardarb; a Shienaran warhorse, Cat Dancer had been as fearsome a weapon as the heron-marked sword Lan carried. But his face betrayed none of the dull tweak of emotion she felt in their bond. Blue eyes hard as steel and a face carved from stone, Lan stared at her. "I remember."

------

"It is dangerous, Moiraine, to camp so close to the Blight."

Moiraine ignored her Warder, and he did not press the point. After six years of bond and constant companionship, Lanknew the futility questioning his Aes Sedai when she was like this. Early that morning in Fal Dara, she had awoken and quietly informed him that it was time to go. He had been up for most of the night, listening to her pained cries as she slept, and had moved quickly, saddling Cat Dancer and Moiraine's bay gelding and gathering their scant belongings into packs. Their swift departure from The Blue Rose went unnoticed as the first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, and she had explained to him her urgency.

"I was visited last night in _Tel'aran'rhiod._" It was an unusual occurrence for her, and Lan hid his surprise better than she. "I must seek out the Green Man and find the Eye of the World." She had paused, waiting for him to protest, to point out that those who had found the Eye of the World since the Age Legends could be counted on one hand, but he had not. Instead, they had ridden ten hours in silence from the Borderlands to the Blight, Moiraine lost in thought.

When he had returned that evening from scouting their site, Moiraine had already begun to break camp. Lan had pointed out the folly in this, but the Aes Sedai insisted.

"I have means of protecting myself, Gaidin, as have you." She said coolly. "This is a matter of pressing importance and I will not lose time fearing a Shadowspawn attack that may or may not come. Whatever the case, we have three days still of traveling in the Blight, if my dream is right. One more night will not be the difference." There was finality in her voice, but the Warder could not help noticing the worried frown that creased her smooth face. The smoothness of her features was yet from youth and not the effects of the Power, though Lan suspected her unreadable eyes belied the ageless Aes Sedai mask she would soon acquire. Still, she was delicately beautiful, long dark hair falling in ringlets from a blue-stone circlet, framing her pale face. Often in their early days he had wondered how such epitome of Cairhienin nobility had wound up a dedicated sister of the White Tower, but now in their closeness little surprised him. "I will weave Illusion over us tonight, we will not come to harm."

But that which had troubled her then had troubled her in the weaving; it was flawed. The Trollocs were almost upon them before Lan awoke and roused Moiraine with a shout. Blade flashing, the uncrowned king of Malkier carved through Shadowspawn as he had been born to do. Kingfisher Takes a Silverback flowed into Parting the Silk became Whirlwind on the Mountain. Beside him, Moiraine—clad in little more than a shift—let lose bursts of fire that set the night sky alight and filled the camp with the smell of burning hair and flesh. As each new wave of Trolloc fell to the fine steel of his sword, Lan pushed forward, searching in the dim light for the Myrddraal that undoubtedly directed the attack. There was a loud crack; behind him two Trollocs fell to Moiraine's lightning. A rusty blade buried itself in his forearm, but he merely grunted and moved seamlessly into The Swallow Takes Flight. He parried an axe swing aimed for his ribcage and impaled the goat-horned beast it belonged to.

"Lan!"

There was a muffled cry, and the Warder whirled about in time to see a Myrddraal, sallow and clad in scaly black armor, engulfed by a brilliant line of liquid power. Immediately the Trollocs around him fell, dead before they hit the ground. When the flash faded there was no Halfman to be seen; only Moiraine, leaning heavily on her staff gasping for air. There was blood on her shift. It stained the sheer white fabric over her left hip and trailed down her leg. Instantaneously he sheathed his blade—Folding the Fan—and ran to her, catching her as she wavered on unsteady legs.

"You are hurt, Moiraine." Lan tore at her shift and uncovered a deep slash cut sideways across her hip. "Badly." Dark thick blood oozed from it, and it stank of a dark taint.

"The Halfman's sword." She said before Lan could ask. Her voice was strained and muted by her heavy breathing. "I will need a Sister." Lan thought he saw tears welled in the corner of her dark eyes. "How are you?"

"My injuries are of no consequence." He said flintily, already casting around camp for his pack and the herbs within. Locating it, he tore his tunic into strips, chewed a paste of yarrow, and wrapped the strips with poultice around Moiraine's hips. "I can stop the bleeding," He pulled the bandages tight with his teeth, "but that is all." Only the Healing of an Aes Sedai could cleanse the taint of the Myrddraal's blade. She would die without it. Moiraine said nothing, but raised a shaking hand to touch his injured forearm, and then the gash across his chest. Strange, he had noticed the second one. Gently, he moved her small hand back to rest where she lay. "Do not concern yourself with me."

"I am sorry, Lan." She breathed. "I will not make it to Tar Valon. I-"

"I will carry you there myself if I must."

"No, Lan Gaidin. I will not make it." she said as firmly as she could muster. "We go to Fal Moran. There is a Blue Sister, Anaiya, there. She can do it."

"You are sure?"

"I have a-a correspondence with her. She is there. Sh-should be…"

Lan hesitated. _Light._ She was slipping from him. "To Fal Moran." He said. Lifting Moiraine, he swaddled her near-naked form in blankets and cloaks. Any other time, the prim Cairihienin would have protested at his manhandling, but now she merely gave him a weak smile. She was so small, as light as a child, and Lan hoisted her onto Cat Dancer's back in front of him with ease. The horse, riled by the fighting, pawed the ground anxiously. "We ride." Lan whispered, perhaps to the horse, perhaps to Moiraine, and dug his heels into the stallion's side.

He rode through the night and all through the morning, urging the warhorse onward at breakneck speed. As the twisted landscape of Blight-touched lands faded to the rocky outcroppings of the Borderlands, Lan gave Cat Dancer no quarter. As day turned to afternoon and afternoon to evening, the Warder did not let up. The warhorse's sides heaved with every step, and its neck was wet with a thick lather of sweat, but still the Warder pushed forward. He was losing Moiraine. She had not made intelligible sounds since they had begun riding or any noise at all for the past six hours. If he had not known better he would have thought her sleeping. But he knew. Their bond was weakening. He could hardly sense her—searching was like trying to find a dove in a blizzard. A sense of urgency seized him like he had never experienced before. It was almost calming, a single-minded drive. He was not even fazed when, after forty hours of straight riding, Cat Dancer stumbled beneath him, ejecting Warder and Aes Sedai from the saddle. Lan did not give second thought to his actions as he unsheathed his sword and dealt a merciful deathblow the magnificent beast that lay convulsing on the ground before him. When he was finished, he gathered the tiny Aes Sedai into his arms and continued in the direction of Fal Moran. The pace he set on foot would have put even the most rugged Aiel to shame.

Fourteen hours later he arrived in Fal Moran, covered and dirt and sweat and blood—somewhere along the journey his own wounds had reopened—at the Anaiya's inn. Recognizing the Warder's fancloth, an alarmed city guard had quickly directed him to the temporary residence of the Blue Sister. Still, no one in the city had seemed more surprised than Anaiya, who let out an uncharacteristic gasp when she saw the Warder. In truth, both the Gaidin and his Aes Sedai were near death, and Lan, carrying her in his arms to the last, had collapsed after laying her still form on Anaiya's bed.

Later, when Moiraine awoke, it was to the sight of Lan staring at her from a chair across the room. He stood immediately and moved to her side. For a second, she wondered if perhaps she had passed from this world with her Warder, but a sharp pain, like a stake driven through her skull, reassured her of her continued existence.

"How are you?"

"Alive, thanks to you Lan Gaidin."

"That was a foolish thing you did, Moiraine Aes Sedai." Lan's eyes hardened. "Foolish and prideful."

"I know." Moiraine said softly, and turned her head away from him. They sat in silence for some time. "I suppose I forgot that being Aes Sedai does not erase one's mortality." She said finally. When he said nothing, she turned towards him again, locking gaze with those cool blue eyes.

"You would do well to remember that in the future." He said simply, his stare level and unflinching. Moiraine's mouth opened to respond, but she decided against it, instead turning once more to stare at the wooden-beamed ceiling of the inn. Lan must have decided there was nothing else to say on the matter, for he promptly rose and left the room. A short time later Anaiya entered the room, looking weary even beneath her ageless mask. Seeing Moiraine awake and well, she shared a small smile.

"It is good to see you, Moiraine."

"And you, Anaiya." Moiraine responded in kind. The two sisters were good friends; Indeed, it had been Anaiya who had guided her in her first days as a Sister of the Blue Ajah. After exchanging brief pleasantries, Anaiya settled on the other Aes Sedai's bed.

"I know you scarcely need to be told, Moiraine, but you owe your life to your Warder." Before the Cairihienin could answer, she continued. "He ran his horse to death, and then carried you—himself fairly seriously injured—in his arms until he reached my doorstep. Light knows I have heard of few Warders ever managing such feat."

"I know," was all Moiraine could think to say.

"He was frightened, Moiraine."Anaiya went on. "He said at the last, by some miracle not dead himself, that he could not feel your bond anymore." Moiraine could hardly imagine Lan being afraid. "Give him time," Anaiya was saying. "For a Warder to lose his Aes Sedai is as traumatic as a Sister being stilled." Both Aes Sedai shuddered inwardly at the thought. "Perhaps even more so, for I have heard of Sisters surviving a Stilling but never of Gaidin surviving the loss of a bond."

The Sisters conversed for a short while longer before Anaiya left to tend to other matters. For the next day, Moiraine drifted in and out of a dreamless sleep, waking every few hours to sip a potent tea Anaiya had brewed for her. After the fifth or sixth time, she opened her eyes to find Lan beside her, holding a small amount of food on a wooden tray. His face was as stony as ever, but his eyes seemed softened.

"You should eat, Moiraine. It was a powerful Healing that Anaiya performed on you."

Gratefully, Moiraine accepted the food from him. Between one dainty mouthful, she said, almost foolishly, "I am sorry about Cat Dancer." Lan seemed taken aback.

"Cat Dancer was a fine horse." He said slowly. "But it matters not."

"When we return to Fal Dara next, I will make inquiries with Lord Agelmar as to—"

"It matters not." Lan repeated again, and suddenly Moiraine was aware of how close they were to one another. Perhaps close was not the right word, for it was not their physical nearness that startled her. Instead, it was the intimacy of their bond that struck her, a nigh-overwhelming intensity. Lan felt it too, she could tell, and a small blush crept over her serene face as he moved to kiss her gently on the forehead.

"I could not feel you, Moiraine Aes Sedai." He kissed her again, on the left cheek. "I thought you had died." On the right cheek. "You were foolhardy." On the mouth. "And I, underprepared." Moiraine blushed darker as he deepened the kiss. "Let me be near you tonight." He pulled apart, blue eyes drilling her brown for an answer.

Moiraine's gaze searched the Warder. Since that day in Chachin when he knelt before her, he had done all she asked of him, and more, most times without question and always without complaint. She had never felt as near to another human before; never to lovers, never to friends. Was Lan either of those? She knew not, only that he was a companion. A steadfast companion who, at this moment, was asking for something that she and only she could give. Taking his large, square hand into her tiny one, she answered him beneath the dizzying intimacy of their bond.

"Stay with me."

And she kissed him.

Later that night, and the night after, and the night after that, she would lie contentedly in his arms and let her thoughts drift. Did she love him? _Perhaps. _Could there ever really be love beneath the staggering devotion that compelled the relationship between Aes Sedai and Gaidin? She wondered if Green Sisters ever puzzled over this, or if they simply gave themselves up to that perfect moment when the two bodies became one and the deepest crevices of their bond felt filled to bursting.

------

Years, she would decide that it did not matter. The feelings shared between them were irrelevant; she was pledged to her mission and he to his. They were both, as Lan liked to say, wedded with death. After twenty years, she had lost count of the times the each of them had faced death—and afterwards sought solace in the other's arms. Even now a pink blush rose to Moiraine's cheeks when she recalled these. Relevant or not, they were mementos of an intimacy she would never share with another human being. The scraping of Lan's boots against the cottage floor brought Moiraine back to the present.

"Honor to serve, Moiraine Aes Sedai." The Gaidin bowed low. "It has been and will be so, always."


End file.
